What Use Brings
by NotebookPaper
Summary: It was an odd chance they were given, but they would use it. They would use it until the fabric of false reality could wear away; until they could tear down the pillar of rabid obsession; until the rust could eat through the iron bars keeping them apart.
1. Prologue

Title: What Use Brings

Author: NotebookPaper

Rating: T+

Genres: Romance, Adventure, Family, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor

Main Pairings: RinoaxSquall, ZackxAerith

Important Pairings: RainexLaguna, AngealxJulia, CidKramerxEdea CloudxTifa

Minor Pairings: SelphiexIrvine, ZellxLibraryGirl, TsengxElena, QuistisxRufus

Prologue Pairing: RainexLaguna

Notes: There is a very good chance I will either intrigue you, or put you off; this leaves me very little room for misinterpreting my story's affect on you, doesn't it? I have never attempted a crossover before except for a silly, personal interpretation of my meeting all the FFVII and VIII characters in my too-small bedroom when I was in sixth grade. It didn't occur to me then that my room was in fact too small. I will say, to my credit, no such mistakes will be made here, but there will be differences I myself find intriguing. A couple of them are mentioned in this prologue, but this will most certainly ease you in gently. It's almost wholly FFVIII.

Do not expect the same treatment in the first Chapter. There will be more explanation on the development of this story in that chapter, but for now, the Prologue.

I truly hope you will enjoy this ride.

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. Refer to other Disclaimers.

* * *

Raine bursted through the doors to the Presidential Office, lightning in her blue eyes. Though Laguna had heard her come in, expected her even, the slam of the door behind her made him jump and drop his pen. Kiros and Ward looked askance at him, but their gazes didn't remain cool for long because the woman stalked close, emanating rage that made them fear for their lives. A look from her made them completely forget Laguna and flee the scene of impending domestic violence. Just what had he done now?

Laguna watched after them, a nervous show of his teeth his last vestige of a smile as his wife approached. "Thanks guys..." he mumbled quietly to the side where he could almost see the remaining, smoky outline of his closest friends. "Really... You're so dependable..."

"Laguna... I know how you _love_ to see me angry, but you've _really_ gone too far this time." She wasn't yelling, but in front of his desk - _'Thank you, Desk, thank you for being so dependable,'_ he whined inwardly - with her arms crossed and her accusing face jutting toward him with the rest of her torso she may as well have been hissing at him. "What exactly were you trying to accomplish? And I just _have_ to ask; was it worth it?"

It was true; Laguna often found his wife's temper enticing, Even now, trying to regain his cool in the face of the formidable woman he could not help but attempt a sideways glance at her derriere, which was accentuated by her huffy stance and lovingly packed into a pair of stiff jeans. Laguna thanked the high heavens that she had never lost her country love for a good pair of jeans.

"Yup. It was."

"And _what_ were you trying to accomplish?"

Laguna leaned back into his cushy chair, languishing even as his wife seethed, close to boiling over.

"I think, dear, that if _you_ think you'll know the exact answer to that."

"Uh-hhuuuh," she drawled. "Yeah, I don't pretend to know what goes on in your head, President Loire."

"Ah, yes. I suppose the inner workings of my mind are a far too complicated to grasp, First Lady Loire. That's okay." Raine's eyes flared. She was a little too miffed to take a playful insult at the moment. That was fine. "It's damn simple, though."

"Okay... Tell me what you were thinking letting Ellone and Squall go on a tour of the Animal Research Facility without _my_ permission. Is that your inane idea of a trip to the Zoo, Laguna Loire? Because it's hardly mine!"

"You've never been to the Zoo, Raine Loire. It's nice, but there's not much to it but animals and info on 'em. Squall will love the animals, and so will Ellone with the added bonus of learning about the suckers a little more. Where better to learn stuff than at an actual research facility? Hell, Squall will probably pick up something."

"That's... oddly smart of you." Laguna made a show of pouting. "But you still did it without my permission."

"Hey, they're my kids too."

"Yeah! _And_ they're mine!"

"You do things without me, Raaaine." Laguna whined, though it was more for show. He'd expected this turn.

"I don't even know what they're doing or where exactly they are!" She had a habit of ignoring his whining.

"Aw, don't you trust Nora to take good care of them?"

"Uurggh... Yes. I trust _Nora_." Nora was, for all intents and purposes, the kid's impromtu baby-sitter. She had been of cushy standing when Laguna had moved Raine and their kids here. She hadn't worked a day in her life up to twenty, but Estharian society prided discipline and good behavior. She was perhaps the perfect candidate; just soft enough from not working, but just strict enough from her upbringing, to take charge of the children on her own once Sqaull was three. Raine had come to quite like the girl. "It's you I don't trust."

"Why?" Laguna was truly curious, but unhurt by the comment merely because Raine said _things_ when she was angry.

"Because you're not around like I am! How do _you_ know neither of them were sick or something?"

Laguna leaned forward and rested his lips against his clasped hands, elbows on his desk. He nodded his head to get his bangs out of his face, meeting Raine's stare. "Were they?"

"No."

"Thought so. They didn't look it."

"You saw them?"

"Yup. This morning. Gave them money for lunch and snacks and kissed 'em goodbye." he made a show of waving and grinned at her. "They were fine."

Raine shook her head and dipped her forehead to her palm heavily. "I should have known that tutorial you gave me on the Zoo last week was trouble."

He lifted his lips from his hands and cocked an eyebrow. "Are you actually worried?"

Raine peeked at him from between her hand and where her hair had moved over her headband into her face. He chose not to grin this time, deciding she was winding down to where it wouldn't be appropriate anymore. She sighed. "No, not really. I feel kinda dumb, actually. I'm sorry, Laguna. You're around much more often then I give you credit for."

Laguna's eyebrows rose.

"Whoa, _waittaminute_. I wasn't hunting for an apology." Raine was deflating. He didn't like it when she did that. He'd seen her that way far too often lately. Standing up, he walked around the desk to her, where she had already started to turn away to leave. "Hey, hey. Think of this as an opportunity."

"What? To rest or something? I know why you did this." When she looked up at him she looked tired where before she had been vibrantly, beautifully furious.

Suddenly Laguna, though his intentions had been pure, felt guilty. "Why?"

"Becaue you think I need some _time_. Time to _heal_. Right?"

"Well, what if you do, Raine?"

"I do have time, Laguna! Why can't I spend it with my kids?"

"It's just one day. C'mon-"

"Why can't I spend it with my kids? Why can't I spend it with Ellone? Why can't I spend it _Squall_?"

Laguna shook his head, and reached out to rub his hands over her arms, but she wouldn't have it. He sighed deep.

"In the last few months... Well. Lately... Sometimes I think you make yourself sick watching him, Raine."

At that Raine looked furious, but it wasn't the kind Laguna enjoyed. This was, perhaps, completely earnest, and warranted.

"That's _our son_, Laguna. _Of course_ I'm going to watch him, make sure he's okay, not matter _what_ it means for me. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes." Raine looked disgusted and turned to leave again. "No-no wait. No, I don't have a problem with that. Not in theory. But let me ask you something. It's different from Ellone, right?"

Raine stopped at the door, her shoulders tense. It took her agonizing moments to turn around, but Laguna remained standing straight, one hand out as if offering her something. She was glaring at him again when she faced him. She walked up to him, poking a finger at his chin.

"That is _not_ fair, Laguna. Not Fair. I love Ellone."

"But you worry for Squall more."

"No, no I don't."

"Then why ain't it fair, Raine? Would you be sadder if-" He stopped himself and Raine's face came closer.

"If _what_?" Laguna shook his head, about to forge on ahead and say he was sorry, but she poked his sternum, jabbing him painfully with her fingernail. "_Finish it_."

"No, Raine. It's not right. I don't-"

"_If what, Laguna_?"

His eyebrows and the scant wrinkles forming in his forehead creased and contorted as if in pain. He had a look on his face that begged Raine not to make him continue. But he had thought it, and as his wife, the mother of his children, she would not let him get away with it. "...Would you be sadder if Squall died?"

And she slapped him. She slapped him harder than she had jabbed his heart with her fingernail, but somehow he felt it more painfully in that general area. He didn't have sense enough to settle a hand over the stinging wound, but dumbly stood his ground and took the abuse. He had probably hurt her even more.

"How _dare_ you. You're a horrible husband, Laguna. A _horrible_ father, Laguna." She was furious, but as she spoke her tone changed, and Laguna could see tears forming in her lovely, tragicly blue eyes. Those were the eyes his three year old son possessed. At least he didn't look like his father.

"You want to know why it's not fair, Laguna? Do you?" Her voice cracked but she waited for him to nod, so he knew it was his fault she spoke like this. "It's not fair because Squall is _our_ son. Our _only_ son. The _only_ one we can ever have. Or hasn't it sunken in yet? Did you _not_ realize that's what the Doctor Odine meant? Squall is the only one we get. Squall is the only one I get to have. Squall is the _only one I can give you, Laguna_!" The tears erupted from the wells they had formed then and she screamed her anguish, fists clenched and jutting behind her. The once sturdy, independent woman was reduced to sobs afterward. She would have fallen to the floor, but Laguna caught her first, kneeling down and cradling her though she might have hit him.

"I'm sorry, Raine. I'm sorry. I'm was an idiot again. I am an idiot. I've always been an idiot. I should have thought... Dammit, Raine, when do I think? I'm so sorry." It all spilled out in a tumultuous rush. She cried into his blue shirt then, her hands useless and trembling to either side of his dog-tags. "I understand, Raine. I'm sorry." When she could breathe past her own sobs she started to whisper self-loathing obscenities, apologizing. When he thought she would listen he spoke. His voice was lined with tears as well, though he would not let them fall. "It's not your fault, Raine. You know what they say; shit occurs and you can't do a thing about it."

Raine laughed incredulously, though it could have been mistaken for a cough, a hiccup or a sob. "I believe it goes, 'Shit happens and there's nothing you can do about it.'"

"Huh." He sniffed, smelling her unwashed hair. He realized then that she was wearing the same white T-shirt she'd worn the day before and perhaps before that, and though her jeans were stiff, they did not have the same starchy feel he remembered from their time spent together in Winhill. Gods, he'd known she'd been in a funk. Why hadn't he done something sooner?

Why hadn't he done something as soon as they knew the miscarriage wasn't a random occurrence?

"Honey-sweets." He knew she loved and hated it when he called her that. "Let's go get you a shower. You'll feel better, won't you?"

"No Laguna." Her voice was moist and nasally. "No, I won't feel better."

She let him lug her up anyway. She let him carry her down the hall and into their quarters, where they entered the bathroom. Somewhere along the way she regained her pride and went to shower by herself. Her husband tended to the scant chores she and Nora had not gotten to today, and was in the process of putting a stuffed lion on Squall's bed when she came back to him. Her eyes were sunken, but she looked like she felt better. Raine was not the type of woman to break down. Laguna hated himself for bringing it about... but then shit happened, didn't it? Maybe she needed to cry.

Raine wrapped herself in Laguna's arms like she would only do with him when they were alone. She laid her head right under his chin, her hands over his shoulder-blades. Her hair soaked his blue shirt. She sighed long and deep.

"I won't do that again, my love."

He nodded above her and just held her for minutes until he felt breaking the silence might be okay.

"Are you unhappy, Raine? Because I'm not. I don't mean nothing by it, but is Squall truly not enough for you? It seems to me we love that kid enough for five."

Raine sniffed, inhaling his scent. "No. I love Squall. I don't need another one. I think I'll be over it now." She squeezed him tighter. "You two boys are the only ones I need." She cleared her throat. "But it's okay to be protective, right?"

Laguna hugged her tighter, feeling his heart overflow with unbridled love. "That's normal, Raine."

"Good. Well, I'm sure you'll still be glad to know that I'm going to take Odine's offer to send Squall to Garden on his Scholarship."

"Huh. No kidding?"

"Yeah. What better way to protect my son then letting him learn to protect himself?" She let go of him and sat on her son's bed. "Besides, I've still got a year to change my mind and he'll be able to leave whenever he wants. Being a mercenary has its perks. At least he won't have to injure himself out of the big bad ShinRa Infantry like his father did."

Laguna chuckled and sat down next to her, elbows on his thighs. "Ouch. Well, I guess there aren't many men are lucky enough to have a sexy barmaid to take care of them when they're crying like a baby, or to stumble their way into running a country for that matter. It might be for the best." He kissed her temple. "What about Ellone wanting to travel?"

Raine breathed deep. "Well, Odine has another contact in Garden as well. Not sure why, but he and the Headmaster's wife get along well."

"Oooh. Scandal."

Raine hit his shoulder playfully. "Ew. Gross. No. Edea and Cid Kramer have apparently been married for years and years. They own an orphanage in Gongaga, so I guess she's good with children. She has her own detachment of mercenaries as well, and she offered to let Ellone aboard their ship if she wants to go this summer."

"That's nice of her."

"Yeah... She said they could even give her classes on board. History and math and all that."

"Elle will love that."

"Heads of State do this with their kids all the time, right?"

"I guess so."

"Alright. President Loire. It's going to be quiet come next year." She looked at him expectantly, and his expression turned to that of a lost puppy.

"Er, and that means? First Lady Loire?"

"You better keep me entertained."

He chuckled and hugged her close. "That sounds like fun."

* * *

Expect the first chapter in a couple days, if not tomorrow. More of the crossover aspects will be present.


	2. Chapter One

Title: What Use Brings

Author: NotebookPaper

Rating: T+

Main Pairings: RinoaxSquall, ZackxAerith

Important Pairings: RainexLaguna, AngealxJulia, CidKramerxEdea CloudxTifa

Minor Pairings: SelphiexIrvine, ZellxLibraryGirl, TsengxElena, QuistisxRufus

Chapter One Pairing: Squint for RinoaxSquall

Notes: Oh dear, has it been too long? I've been a fan to many chapter fictions in the past, and I understand the long wait that comes between chapters sometimes, but having this long between Prologue and Chapter One? I truly am sorry to anyone who waited for this, though I suppose there wouldn't be many. Anyway, I still have many chapters planned and I want to update regularly, but I suppose it's fair to tell you that that may not happen. I ignored a lot of homework to get this done, but I was taken hostage by my muse. In all honesty I really don't know if I want that to happen again.

About this chapter, lots of _stuff_ is in here, and I believe I intended to explain some things, but I've decided it's best if I don't do it here. If you have questions about _anything_ please post, and I'll answer you _if_ it doesn't give anything away; this goes for all future content as well, and if I start to get a lot of questions about the same issues I'll post them in this notes section as well. The stuff that I have planned just _works_ in my head, but all the same I'll try and keep it as clear as possible. …Angeal has _glasses_! x3

About writing this chapter… lots of _stuff_ is in here. This is longer than all but one of my one-shots—and I don't like that one anymore—but I offered less detail for individual actions because it's all about the whole now. There will be a slight change in organization in future chapters, which will offer me more space for detail, but you may notice a faster progression. I'm truly worried about how it will be received, but I hope writing this will improve my skills. Please, if you have criticism, please post.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Final Fantasy universe, or Angeal. I think I'm coming to terms with that.

* * *

Two Decades Later…

"Daddy!"

The sparse decoration of the subtle but large home made it so her call echoed throughout the halls. It wasn't a screechy one, but with the emphasis on the "a" sound and the musical vibrato of the "y," Angeal knew his daughter was in a good mood. Her voice was a happy thing he wasn't used to, but for now he was quiet, allowing the girl to repeat her call three more times as he took a drink of his black coffee and read from a second-hand newspaper. She was more irritated with every trill of her voice, but in a playful way; it was a game they played often. He looked up from his paper a few moments before she walked past his sitting room. She didn't notice him as she was intent on putting a bag in her often unused room. She called him one more time, mock tiredness in her voice.

"Yes, Angel?" He mimicked.

"Urrrggghh," was her reply as he heard items being strewn around her room. Angeal smirked, taking more coffee and looking back down at his paper.

"There you are!" Her voice was accusing some moments later as it came from the entrance to his sitting room, the same door she had passed some time ago. Angeal continued to read his paper until he was finished with the current article. It only took moments, but he could hear her foot tapping before he looked into her pouting face. She looked healthy, her hands on her hips in a strong, unyielding pose. The area around her deep brown eyes was not discolored from lack of sleep, nor too much, and she might have gotten taller; it would be her last growth spurt, he assumed, as she was hitting her twenty-third year this May.

"Yes, Rinoa, here I am." He smirked at her before his lips melded to a look of a father glad to see his daughter safe and sound. He was never worried for her, at least not in any way he'd ever tell her; she was too much like her mother to particularly enjoy someone else's worrying about her. "Why are you so riled up?"

"Do I seem riled?" She made of show of blinking at him, before circling around the table to grab a cup of coffee, though she added cream and sugar to hers, stark contrast to his black drink. "Well, I suppose that could be because the goons are at it again."

"Goons?"

Rinoa took a tentative sip of her coffee, blowing over the top of it when she found it too hot to drink just yet. "Oh, you know, that guy with the red hair and his bald buddy. It's like they know when I'm coming home; it's a bit creepy." She sniffed her coffee, looking over at the makeshift coffee counter of his bleak sitting room. There was no decoration on the surface, but the coffee grinder, can of beans and stack of filters was enough for Angeal. There was, however, a conspicuously untouched bag of beans labeled Amoretto, a gift Rinoa had sent to her father some time ago. She pouted. "You'll never drink that, will you?"

"I told you, dear, I'm saving it."

She breathed deep and arduous, exhaling both out her nose and then through a pair of noisy lips, an action which made Angeal look up at her from over the rim of his glasses. Rinoa bunched her lips to the side and looked shiftily between the window and her father before forging ahead. "Soooo, yeah. Reno was bugging me again. I have no idea why they want me so bad, besides the obvious." She ran her fingers through her hair and grinned at him, which he returned with a shake of his head and a chuckle out his nose.

"You're getting to be a well-rounded girl, traveling everywhere the way you do, using my station to talk to people. They'll rein you in like they did me if you have any more outbursts."

"I still don't understand why you work for these people! I swear, I'd probably hate you if you didn't talk to me about what you really think; I can't imagine having a dad like… like _Tseng's_ dad must be." Rinoa made a face.

"Tseng's a good kid," Angeal flipped a page in his paper.

"Yeah, yeah, a lot of them are. I just don't want to be one of _them_. Oh! Speaking of which, Zack's getting promoted!"

"Took long enough."

"Yeah, well, you weren't much of a help."

"If you do things too fast you—"

"—Risk breaking something good. Yeah, I get it, not that I would mind if he wasn't a part of ShinRa anymore." Rinoa tested her coffee again, drank it in their mutual silence, and attempted to cross her eyes at the back of her father's paper; whoever had owned it beforehand left a coffee-stain over the middle of the article she wanted to read, so she sighed an gave up. "You know, flavored coffee isn't something to be afraid of, Daddy. You might actually like that."

"For a girl who spends so much of her time finding things wrong with corporate organizations, you sure do like that brand."

"Wishing Gils, Daddy, say it with me, _Wishing Gils_ coffee."

"Hnmm, I told you I'm saving it for a special occasion."

"You don't _have_ any special occasions, Daddy."

Angeal glanced at her over his glasses again then went back to his article. "Well, I guess you know me pretty well." Rinoa stuck her tongue out at him.

The two of them finished their coffee at the same time, but Angeal remained to finish reading his paper, savoring the time he had in his house, with his daughter running here and there, probably feeding her dog somewhere in the midst of all of it, before he had to leave to work. Rinoa occupied herself with this and that, but just as he was getting ready to fold his paper she came back into the sitting room and stretched. Angeal blinked; this was a familiar action, but the timing never failed to make him chuckle.

"You really didn't look tired when you first came in."

"The coffee pulled it out of me, plus I've been pulling some strange hours with the flights back here; glad you still think I'm so cute." She poked one of the dimples that appeared at the corner of her lips when she smiled with her teeth. "But really, it's mostly the coffee."

"I'll never understand that. Will you be around tonight?"

"Huh! Is Daddy bringing home company?"

"No."

"Of course not. No, I'll be going to a party Zack's throwing for himself, the SOLDIER loser."

"Hey, watch your tone."

"Don't worry, Dad; I think you're a loser too." Angeal looped an arm around her shoulders and briefly kissed her temple, but Rinoa hugged him full around the waist, holding him for a moment. "Missed you."

"Missed you too, Angel. Go to sleep, you're being mushy."

"Daddy?" Rinoa asked as he slipped away to grab his sword; at the door he looked back over his shoulder. "Am I immature?"

Angeal's hand stalled on the doorknob and he looked down. In his peripheral vision he could see Rinoa grasp her opposite elbow and shift her weight to one leg. She was probably biting her lip, awaiting his response. He breathed, realizing that while this question was sprung from tiredness, Rinoa was always completely and utterly honest; it wasn't an empty question.

But more than knowing she wanted—needed—his affirmation, Angeal realized this was the time to say something. He didn't know when he'd ever get another chance.

"You know we haven't always had it easy, Angel. You probably remember when I couldn't give you everything, almost anything, you wanted. You've grown up fine." She didn't look convinced, so he stepped away from the door to stand in front of her, looking down into her soft, dark eyes as he regarded her seriously. "You don't tell me what people say to you, but here's this; most people who are immature won't ask anyone if they are. Don't let someone tell you you're something you know you're not. You've got a good enough head to judge," he settled a hand on her shoulder, "and you'll definitely need it."

Rinoa's eyelids opened wider in a minute fashion, and she might have stepped closer if he weren't already leaning distance away. "Why?" It was a loaded question.

Angeal chuckled and let his hand drop, lifting his sword with his other hand onto his back. "You've got a party to go to tonight; how many bad decisions do you think are made at parties?"

* * *

Rinoa was ready to go before she realized it, mostly because she had been thinking the whole time about what her father had said. It bugged her how she could never get a clear answer from him about _anything_ important; she figured it was because there was _something_ he had to protect her from, but she was slowly getting more and more agitated about the frustrating abstractness of his protection.

Walking down the street towards the hotel where Zack was throwing his party, Rinoa Hewly-Heartilly couldn't help but simmer, walking with her hands behind her back. Nothing about the street around her was really registering, so she wasn't quite prepared for the shocking waves that rocked her ribs when hands clutched her sides.

She squealed, effectively drawn from her thoughts.

"Whoa!" Zack was clutching his heart when she turned around, murder in her eyes until her expression turned dull; she should have been used to this. "I think your reaction scared me more that I scared you."

"Oh really? I doubt that." Brown eyes glared at his sparkling blues, but Rinoa couldn't really hold back her own mirth for long; Zack never meant her any harm. "Why aren't you at your own party?" she asked as she looped her arm through his, settling her chin on his bicep and watching him as they started to walk towards the hotel again.

"I had to take a call; a thousand people are calling in their congratulations and asking for directions."

"A thousand? Yeah, right."

"Hey, don't doubt it. I'm letting people bring anyone they want. Maybe I'll find myself a girlfriend." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Ha! Don't say that for my sake; I gave up that quest a looooong time ago." She let go of him after punching his arm, eliciting an "ow!" from him. "I wouldn't saddle any girl I knew with you anyway, SOLDIER boy."

They were soon walking through the front doors into the lobby of a hotel Rinoa didn't care to recall the name of; it looked like all the others she had stayed at. What was notable was a group of people who swarmed them immediately, claiming the people in the suite Zack had gotten weren't letting them in; Zack brandished his keycard and was swept away in a crowd of approval, Rinoa melding into the slew to speak with the friends she had amongst them, already forgetting her father had said anything to her earlier that day.

An hour or so into the night Rinoa was coming off the makeshift dance floor to get a water-bottle when one was handed to her by a familiar red-head.

"Hey, Princess; come here often?"

Rinoa swiped the bottle from him and grinned. "Nope." Before she turned around to leave, Reno slid into her path.

"C'mon, now, this is mutual territory, Princess. No hard feelings for earlier? Even Zack's okay with the Turks running around his party."

"Zack's a good guy." She tried to move again, but despite her haste her manner was still a nice one; when Reno popped in her way again she couldn't attempt ignoring the non-threatening red-head a third time.

"And you're a bad girl?" It was rhetorical. "C'mon, I don't recruit in my off hours. Oh, and you're not my type, so don't worry."

Rinoa's lips bunched to the side for a moment as she though, but they soon melded into a slight, "why not?" sort of grin and she walked with him. They talked about nothing as they took their time walking around the perimeter of the fun, stepping over people who had already succumbed to their amount of the stuff. Truly, Rinoa felt she was starting to get a little old for these types of parties, at least one's that didn't take place at purpose-built locations, and she hoped this was a last big-bash on Zack's part; he too seemed to be getting a little old for the scene; he'd never expressed any interest in finding a girlfriend on his own. Maybe he was getting to that age, entering into the more professional side of SOLDIER and all, no matter how much she hated it.

When she finished her bottle of water she realized she hadn't really been paying much attention to Reno, but like this he was an easy deterrent to any unwanted company, and he didn't seem to mind. All the same, Rinoa felt the need to say something. "So, am I playing wing-man since you find yourself lacking Tall-Bald-and-Handsome?"

Reno laughed. "Oh, he's here. It's just not a place he'd care to walk around. But, hey, if you're sticking around, he may take out his saxophone once things wind down."

Her eyebrows raised and they had something to talk about for another five minutes before Reno took them to a certain corner and clutched her elbow in an unthreatening manner. "So, hey, I don't normally do this stuff in my off hours—"

"What DO you do in your off hours?" She kept the conversation normal, but already she could tell that he was trying to get her to look at something. She took the intervening opportunity to put the wall at her back and leaned on it, pushing her capped bottle over her lips and looking around Reno when holes in their conversation allowed it. The red-head stood just close enough not to offend her; if anything, her being okay with their proximity was pulling him awry.

"…and I also partake of the Wishing Gil's scones now and then, but other than spiking the front of my hair that's about all I have time for when I'm not working. You're really good at this, by the way. Do you see him?"

"You mean them, right?"

"Ah, good. Yeah, the sulky brunette and the mightier-than-thou blond barely keeping his cover in check?"

"They're obviously not part of our populace. They stand different than Zack and his buddies but their obviously trained."

"You don't exactly meld either, Princess, but do you think you could do something about it?"

"Why should I?"

"You might learn something about the people who are just as against ShinRa as you are."

Rinoa's eyebrow perked, her attention successfully baited, and she handed her bottle to Reno, smiling with over-sugared sweetness as she started to walk away. "I'll seriously never understand men like you," she said a bit louder than the rest of their conversation as she made her way through people, a few of which turned to who she was talking to.

Reno sneered—"You're a good distraction, Princess, but that's it!"—then made a face and threw the bottle towards an overflowing waste paper basket angrily enough to scatter some of the trash already there. As he exited, his back to the majority of the merry-making, he breathed in and out then grinned and chuckled. "You're a real handful."

Of the two who were there, an imperial blond and a severe brunette, Rinoa decided the one standing off to the side would be the easiest to crack; plus his messy hair would be a treat to rake her fingers through if his cooperation came to such high demands.

"Mind if I stand here?"

There was a window behind him overlooking a busy street of Midgar. A theater had just exhaled its guests and hawks were selling various items just outside its doors. Rinoa pretended to be interested in the movement of various people, but really she was planning what she'd say if the stranger next to her decided to ask if she was alright; she only really registered a shock of white and yellow flowers before she realized the boy was looking for an exit.

"Oh! I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to impose." She said it a little loudly so once again a few people were looking in her direction; sometimes she wondered if her tactics were too obvious, but they always worked on the spot.

A small, perhaps annoyed, exhale came from his throat. "It's fine." It was almost too obvious he wanted to leave the matter at that, to just brave her company, hopefully in silence, but she wouldn't have that.

"Oh good, because I could really use someone to talk to right now, and you're the best looking guy here." She gave him a winning smile, and he just didn't seem to know how to take it; the boy looked uncomfortable and he shook his head minutely, no words coming from his lips. "What's your name?"

"Ah, I really don—"

"I'm Rinoa Hewly-Heartilly, you know, and you seem like the military type. Do you know my father?"

When Rinoa turned to face the stranger a little better she could see that the imperial looking blond had noticed the two of them, but it was hard to tell if he thought she was a threat; she'd have to do this fast.

"No, I—"

"Oh? Then what's your name? Aren't you a part of the Infantry or SOLDIER or something?"

"No."

"Come to think of it, I guess I haven't seen you around. Are you planning on joining? My father is a SOLDIER First Class, so maybe I could pull some strings."

"No, I won't be joining the ShinRa military." She could tell he was getting his bearings, so she tried that smile of hers again, lifting her index finger to give him something other than the people around them to focus on.

"That's sounds like a good idea." She turned back towards the window, looking idly, perhaps for the flowers, again. "So what's your name?"

"Squall."

Her smile was leveled at him again. "Dramatic. Your parents must be awesome."

"Dad's an idiot."

"No kidding?"

Rinoa was a pro at talking about nothing, but it was still a bit difficult to get this one to say more than a few words for any answer. Still, the more she pressed, the more comfortable he seemed to get with their conversation. Before long she was walking with him just as she had with Reno, but with a little more attention paid on her part. Squall was easy to walk with, his gait an plotted one, like he knew wherever he put his feet was meant to hold him; she imagined he'd pick up dancing very quickly, if he didn't already know how to.

But that was not why she wanted to talk to him.

As they made their way back to their window, Rinoa was aware enough of the fact that the blond boy was watching them with increased interest, but she was aware of Squall being oblivious to the attention. If she wanted to hear anything about this guy, and the people he worked for, she'd have to get him out of the hotel where it would be strange for the other boy to follow.

"Hey, Squall, do you want to go for a walk with me?"

"Didn't we just do that?"

Oh, he was cute. "I mean in the fresh air; it's getting really stuffy in here." And it was, for she wondered if Zack had even really noticed how stuffed the suite was getting. "You don't want to walk with me?"

It seemed he could already tell where that would get him, and somehow Rinoa certainly _did_ end up leading him out of the hotel by the hand. Out on the street it was a little easier for Rinoa to see how to get where she wanted to go. "Well, I guess it's not really fresh air, is it?"

A pair of blue eyes rested on her and Rinoa, for perhaps the fifth time, really wanted to know where that scar had come from, but she could hardly tell if there was a chance for this business to turn to pleasure.

"Sounds like you don't like it in Midgar," he wagered.

"I don't. I'd hate it completely if there weren't people I love here. It's so dirty and it's run by the worst of people."

"…President ShinRa?" He seemed tentative, suspicious of her tone.

"To an extent, but it's not just him. It's the company with his name."

They came to the entrance to the Train Station and she stopped, facing him so he had no choice but to do the same. He did, eyeing her closely now, no doubt wanting to see where she was going with her mini tirade.

"You said your Dad was a First Class SOLDIER."

"Messed up, huh? But I won't lie to you. I know what you are too."

"Oh yeah?"

Rinoa looked at him, really looked at him. He seemed surprised that she would know his vocation, but Squall wasn't withdrawing like he was about to hide it, deny it. Instead there was a sizing-up going on, a careful character scan that made her wonder if she was on the receiving end of that "Drawn Magic" she'd heard Garden was famous for developing. She found herself about to say aloud that he was a mercenary, that his Garden was the last organization that would, could, stand against the company her father worked for, but as soon as she opened her mouth she closed it, smiling at him in a way that put his head on a tilt. She raised her hand in front of her lips, giggling lightly behind it because he looked like a puppy. She told him as much, not afraid her sudden demeanor made him think she was joking, because it already felt like he knew her well enough; Rinoa made it easy to know her.

She led them into the station, glad to see the train just about ready to depart.

"Will you go somewhere with me?"

"Not supposed to go outside Midgar."

"Oh, this is the train to our slums."

"The slums?"

"Not a good place for a first date?"

"…"

"C'mon, meanie; I just want to show you."

"…Whatever."

She punched him on the arm, and as they boarded the train he lifted a gloved hand to clutch the abused area.

They descended, passing security checkpoints without a hitch because Rinoa had a special pass that told detectors she was allowed to have one unauthorized person within the same car as herself, a pass usually reserved for the infantry when they were taking criminals in and out of the various sectors under the upper plate of Midgar. She told Squall everything about the Train, having him stand close to her at the monitor that depicted their course so she could whisper to him without anyone being suspicious. His interest was genuine, if work motivated, and Rinoa felt a sort of rush, giddy for giving away secrets of the city. Of course, she hadn't really taken into account that reconnaissance might have already been run in the city prior to Squall's time here, but all the same she was happy.

"This is the Market they run down here; none of the shopkeepers really have money to furnish their stores better, or to even buy more goods to sell, but they make their living admirably given what they have. Sometimes I envy them, because they love their land enough to put up with this." Rinoa could feel a tirade coming on, and usually she would indulge in such a thing, but she had a feeling she was running on borrowed time—who knew when blondie would make his way down here?—so she led him from the market deeper into the sector. "If you head that way there's a hidden gem of a bar."

Squall looked at her, interested. "You don't seem like…you would come down here to go to a bar."

She grinned wickedly and motioned him closer, whispering in his ear, "It's called 7th Heaven, named for the sector, but it's also a safe-haven for anti-ShinRa persons." When she stepped back she put a finger to her lips. He merely cocked his brow at her, nodding. "Do you want to go see the church down here?"

Squall didn't say anything because he knew she'd drag him anyway. They passed various people along the way, some of which Rinoa recognized and waved to, though it must have seemed odd, her bringing someone down here. She was rather glad they hadn't run into any monsters, for while she figured Squall could handle himself, and she knew she could, she didn't really want their time together interrupted, even though most of the talk was flavored with a dollop of dreary.

"That's the church?"

"Uh-huh! Oh, were you expecting it to be in use? Sorry, are you a devout?" Squall shrugged. "Oh, well, I guess I'm not, but I've always believed in angels, which I think is awesome since I am one." Rinoa thought she heard him chuckle, but when she looked his face was impassive. "Tough crowd. Well, yeah, I think it would be hard to keep faith down here, so I wouldn't grudge the disuse."

Rinoa hopped up the steps and pushed the door open for the two of them, ushering him in. The place still smelled of mold, but there was something different about the area, and the scent, since she had last seen it. She supposed she had found the place some time back when she was younger, having followed her father on an escapade after school some years ago. Someone had made a hideout of the place, but she only remembered her father being furious that she had managed to follow him; thinking back on it, it must have been a very dangerous situation. That was the only other time she had been inside; all the other times she'd really only taken a gander at the front and moved on, she was so busy.

Walking up the aisle between the pews she saw what was different, what smelled different. There was barely any light, but what streamed in through the stained glass windows was enough to illuminate a small patch of flowers in the middle of a mass of broken floorboards. As soon as Rinoa saw them she was drawn to them, walking the rest of the way towards the makeshift garden because she had to touch those pristine petals.

It was a strange feeling that came to her when she looked at the tiny, almost inconsequential things. Together they made a mass of beauty, but more than that, something Rinoa felt on a visceral level, was how odd it was that these flowers would grow here. There was something different, something that pulled her to the spot where life suddenly lived in all the desolation found under the plate, where the effects of the city's sin was so obvious. This was strange, strangely beautiful, and it beckoned her closer, called her closer. She didn't realize she had stopped at the edge of the broken floorboards opposite the front door of the church, merely staring at the white and yellow stars growing from the ground until Squall's gloved hand shook her gently back to reality.

"Huh?"

"You okay, Rinoa?"

"Yeah, why?"

"…You were staring?"

"Am I not allowed?"

"…" His blue eyes rolled and his hand dropped from her shoulder as he looked down at the small patch. Gently he waved his hand in the general direction of the hole in the floor and when something caught his attention his chin lifted in the slightest surprise and Rinoa was intrigued. There was a pull on the air, which the flowers responded to, swaying in Squall's direction. "Holy." He muttered.

"Holy what?" Her eyebrows knotted in confusion watching as the pull died away and flowers—the calling flowers—ceased their swaying.

As he opened his mouth to answer, an interruption crashed through the door.

"Rinoa! You need to get out of here!" Zack was really fast when he wanted to be, but the boy often suffered from a distinct inclination towards tunnel-vision; in his haste to interpose himself between the two who were shocked and still near the alter of the church, Zack allowed his big, SOLDIER issued boots to wreck all the flowers in his path. For all he might have meant well, thrusting his arms out to the sides to shield Rinoa from what he deemed a threat, Zack was still bonked on the head by Rinoa's loose fist.

"Ow! What's that for? Zack looked back over his shoulder, but still barely lost a beat and was staring down the man in front of him once again. Squall was better at glaring, so there was as yet no reason for Zack to think he'd made a mistake. "This guy's part of Garden, Rinoa. You should get out of her and tell you—"

"I know who he is, Zack! Urrggh, why can you be like Reno and just _be_ off duty?"

"What? You knew? Ugh, Rinoa, this isn't something you should be messing with." Zack's arms dropped as he started to turn, a bit exasperated, but before he could say anything more there was a tangible increase in the temperature surrounding them and Rinoa looked over to the front of the church just in time to see a huge fireball hurling towards the three of them.

Her eyes grew at once wide and dry, painfully so, but the impact she suddenly felt was the pressure of the rebound when the brunette SeeD jumped in front of her and Zack. For the split second she thought he was going to take the blow full force she figured he was crazy, and mourned for the wounds he'd suffer, but an inanely pink force coalesced on his arm and the SeeD knocked the fireball into one of the pillars outside the pews, where it rebounded again and blew through the ceiling, burnt wood crashing around them. When she recovered, she looked up to see Squall heading for the door. Coughing, wanting to say something, she couldn't keep him from leaving as his blond friend covered their exit and closed the doors.

Zack, coughing into his arm, was getting up to run again, but Rinoa picked up the closest piece of wood and threw it at the back of his knees. The man didn't fall, but he grasped a pew to steady himself and turned to look at her. "You've," he coughed, "really got to stop hurting me when I don't know why I deserve it."

"You scared away my contact!" Rinoa coughed a couple more times as well, getting steady enough on her feet to walk around the mutilated flower-bed. "But that's not the half of it. Look," she pointed, "what you did to this work of beauty right here! Dammit, maybe you belong in ShinRa since you have zero care for the environment, or the person who worked to put these here!"

She stood straight before him and crossed her arms as he let go of the pew, his eyebrows knotting together as he looked at her.

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"Rinoa, they're flowers…" She watched him, disgusted, as he spoke, though as he uttered the words he seemed to just realize what an oddity the flowers were, and looked at his handiwork. He did not seem repentant enough for her tastes, however, and she let him know it.

She kicked his shin with her booted foot, stamping it back on the ground for good measure as he gripped his abused leg and jumped around in a very cliché fashion. "Now, if you don't want me to scratch your eyes out, will you please take a long, appreciative look at _that_," she pointed again, "and tell me that you _will_ come back here and apologize to whoever owns this plot?"

Zack shook the pain from his leg standing up straight and following her orders just so they could leave as soon as possible; some party night this had ended up being. "Alright, I will."

Rinoa had to be satisfied, and she sighed because she still didn't think he was as repentant as he could be, but then she took mercy on him; angels were often the harbingers of mercy, weren't they?

She dismissed him, though he wouldn't go far without her. Secretly Rinoa had hoped that the SeeD would come back, but she dismissed waiting for him because she was actually still feeling a little laggy from her trip. She took a last look at the flowers, whispered her sorrow for their condition and her lack of ability to help, then left to go home and give Zack clear conscience to go back to his party.

Once she got home Rinoa blew a kiss goodnight to her father's bedroom door, Angelo trailing at her heels with her cold nose sometimes pressing into her master's calf. Once dressed down for the night Rinoa found she still wanted to do a couple things and searched through some realty located in Balamb. At about two in the morning she called someone who knew how to get _things_ and asked them to make sure a female SeeD uniform, Balamb tailored, in her measurements was waiting for her at the port outside of Kalm three days hence.


	3. Chapter Two

Title: What Use Brings

Author: NotebookPaper

Rating: T+

Main Pairings: RinoaxSquall, ZackxAerith

Important Pairings: RainexLaguna, AngealxJulia, CidKramerxEdea CloudxTifa

Minor Pairings: SelphiexIrvine, ZellxLibraryGirl, TsengxElena, QuistisxRufus

Chapter Two Pairing: RainexLaguna, Squint for ZackxAerith

Note: I will no longer make excuses about how far between the updates are; please just know that I want to work on this and, pending my muses and schedule align, I will work on it when I can.

I had one reviewer previously comment on the ages of people in this story. Laguna and the older generation weren't directly mentioned in the comment, but after writing the first part of this chapter I realized the high numbers may seem a little out there for the general audience. I won't ask you to change your mind about whether having everyone a bit older is good or not, but I will say this of a cast I wish I could see grow old; Laguna was 27 in the flashbacks of the game, given their birthdays (Laguna Jan. 3rd, and Squall Aug 23) I'd guess that Laguna was the still 27 when Squall was conceived sometime in December. He would have been 28 when Squall was born and, contrary to the posted age on the Final Fantasy Wiki, would be 45 when we meet him later in the game (Of course, there can be arguments about whether Squall was a full term baby given the complications that resulted in Raine's death, but I like this figuring). Laguna looks really good for 45, and I'd imagine he would remain so well into his fifties; given the life styles of much of the older crew, I'd say as far the skin-deep goes, there's no reason to be put off by the numbers. I won't scold anyone who is, though, but I hope they will still enjoy the story.

I would appreciate any feedback on the final section of this chapter; I put a lot of thought into it, which made for slow writing, but I like the way it came out. However, it may sound overtly-reverent, and if it does to you guys, I'd like to know; favoritism will of course flavor a fan fiction's writing, but that's what I save for my one-shots. Also, I worry for my portrayal of Genesis. Given my love for goofs and more red-blooded men, I fear I am waaaay off in my writing for him.

General feedback and criticism is most welcome. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

* * *

Someone was whispering to her, yelling, breathing, panting, cursing, lulling, loving, hating. Her dark hair was soaked and cold with her sweat and she was burning with pain that made her writhe and clutch. The loving lulling voice was soothing in its hate, its condemnation. It thought her stupid, its supposed salvation. The voice was female and heavy, oppressing and deadly beautiful, bestowing life on her she wasn't sure she deserved, was rightfully her own. It called her husband names, bolstering her drive to live for the man she loved as it hated and scratched the inside of her skull with sable feathers. She recognized this state of feeling, being, and wanted to get away from it. There was no way it was here, it was here, was here, here. She had hoped to feel this again, didn't want to feel this again, mumbled and screamed, screamed, screamed her life-giving death. _'Live, live, as she dies dies,'_

'…_but I kan stop it, lo.' _

'_I'll wash my hands of your purities, make it kwick.'_ A slap to her face.

'_How are babies born? …loathsome knave?'_ "No, I—"

'…_your komely daughter, not of your own making; I krave her myself, you understand?'_

'…_because her skirts are inviting, youthful.'_ "Not—"

'…_live, to watch this krawl about your ankles…' _

'_He deserves it, the kur, the blasted infidel.' _

'…_my love, sweet,'_ her hair was stroked, _'bitch.' _

'_I kannot allow that. No more for my knave…'_

Her dilated eyes snapped open before she died and firm hands were clutching her shoulders, shaking her with a fervor that wasn't gentle anymore. Her throat was raw, but not from the raking screams she remembered, more dry from breathing through her mouth because her nose was clogged. It was dark in her room, but the smell of it was comforting, dragging her from her old nightmare into the embrace of the person most familiar to and with her. She wasn't sobbing anymore, but the remainder of her tears leaked over Laguna's chest, still warm from being under the covers for the whole night. When a rattled sigh escaped Raine's lungs and she snuggled closer the man wove his arms tighter around her for a moment, offering the strength within him wordlessly. Sometimes it made Raine feel sheepish, guilty almost, seeing that Laguna had learned how to be quiet with age when he used to speak at the most inopportune times. She knew it was just one of the ways he'd learned to deal with her pride; sometimes asking too many questions showed a lack of faith in someone's sturdiness, and appearing as anything but sturdy made Raine a little surly.

"I'm okay, Laguna; just a nightmare."

"Can't remember the last time you had one of those. 'S been years."

"Mhm. Go back to sleep; you've got about an hour and a half by the clock." She yawned deeply, shifting her shoulders like she felt sleep weighing heavily upon her again, but she didn't. As if he knew, Laguna pressed his lips something light against her shoulder, the warmth of them breathing life back into her cooled flesh; he pulled the blanket, warm with his bodily heat, up to her neck.

"Nahhh, I think I'm up for the day."

Raine's eyes, feeling clearer than if she'd slept the perfect amount, lifted and appraised her husband, noting that he had indeed woken up past being able to sleep again while it was still dark. She disentangled herself from the hold he'd taken in an effort to comfort her and settled more fully on her side of the bed, expecting Laguna to get up and start getting ready to attend to his duties. Her mind was preoccupied with the implications of the dream she had, so she barely noticed that her husband had opted to remain in bed until his hand grasped her upper arm, coaxing her gently back to him.

"I'd rather have some of that pillow-talk we've been lacking recently. Wouldn't do me no good to greet the politicians early."

Raine looked into her husband's soft eyes; crow's feet branched out at the corners of them in a more defined fashion than when they had years ago and wisps of black and gray fell over his gaze. Raine's hair had started giving over to gray before his, but neither of them really looked much older than forty, which was good because Laguna was approaching fifty-two and Raine wasn't far behind. The two of them had grown in peaceful temperatures over the last couple decades, luckier than many of the people they had known before moving to Esthar. Their children were happy, for all they barely wrote home, and in their progressed years Laguna and Raine found themselves not wanting for anything. Well, maybe Laguna wished his son would speak more openly with him, and maybe Raine wished her time could be spent being more than just a housewife with a few hobbies, but really they had nothing to complain about.

"Squall's supposed get back to Garden after a mission later this evening."

"Yeah? Think he'll tell us any of the details?"

"As long as it doesn't interfere with protocol, I'd suppose."

"Hnm. Hear anything from Ellone?"

"No."

"Well, I suppose no news is good news. Remember when she always wrote home?"

"And called whenever the boat entered a service area? Of course." Times had changed

They continued talking, joined in their ponderings about their children, the only moments when they were barely discernable from one another. When it came time for Laguna to get ready to leave he couldn't find the pants he liked to wear on Tuesdays. Raine ended up throwing him a pair, commenting on how ridiculous it was to waste so much time over a pair of pants when he had so many. When Laguna pulled the pants off his head he asked her if she wanted his leg to cramp during the day's meeting because he wasn't one-hundred percent comfortable. Her eyes had flared at him, her words about his pampered ass scalding, but her admission, that the only reason his leg would cramp up would be if Governor Rictere brought his scandalously young wife to the meeting, was punctuated with laughter. Laguna donned the pants without further protest, leaving some minutes later after kissing his wife good-bye.

Raine was always left alone in the quiet, predawn atmosphere of their bedroom for some time before she decided there was really no reason for her to get up quite yet. By this time, about half an hour after her husband was gone, she'd usually succumb to sleep. Today, however, she thought back to her nightmare, realizing it was a familiar one upon further thought. There was no way it could have been heralding the same events, the birth of her boy and—

All-in-all, she found she no longer wished to sleep.

* * *

"Subject S is still not cooperating, and I doubt we're ever going to win her over, sir." Reno sagged against the arm of the chair he never sat in. "I really don't understand why you want her so bad. Seems like a costly liability if you ask me."

"No one asked you."

Reno gave a single chuckle and swiped a hand back through his hair, shaking his head just enough to make his lank pony-tail wiggle down his back. He looked at Rude, discerning the expression behind the opaque glasses. So he wasn't the only person who felt this meeting was a little off. "Well, she left for Balamb this morning, and is now all but beyond our reach. Too bad, but don't worry, Sir. I don't mind if I take this time to relax. Good seeing you." A single-fingered salute and he was walking the long trek out of Rufus' office, Rude quietly, severely, in tow. They'd hit the bar tonight and the two of them would go home with a well-deserved confidant, Rude with a brunette who'd just recently let down her stiff accountant's bun, and Reno with her intern.

Or, at least that's how it would have worked in his perfect world.

Really, the intern was even stiffer than her boss, and so strung out on coffee she was probably suffering nightly crashes that would leave her supple little body in shambles a year from now. He was sure he'd get his hands on her before then but— Sephiroth was standing in his way.

"Heeey there, Seph. Care to move?"

"We're not quite done with you today, Reno. Rude." Rufus had a habit of sounding perfectly calm. He didn't talk with an incessant superiority like his father with intonations that said "I went to speech class in college and I can manipulate your emotions;" Rufus just could. Often it took a Turk to stand under his scrutiny and maintain their dignity, but really, inside, something moved them to pay attention just like everyone else.

From behind Sephiroth came Reno's red-haired rival for the female staff's affection, a man who spent more time reading than really paying attention to his Fan Club, a veritable sin which didn't seem to conflict with his over-abundance of publicity. The man had, arguably, two Fan Clubs actually, a branch which had separated from the main group some time ago compromising the second. It was geared towards the man's literary pursuits, for he read a wide variety, his favorite work being the basis for a play Reno had actually seen, once, some years ago. Apparently, within the last year the man had started to write as well, but Reno had no idea what about, and probably never would. Genesis was weird, but Reno tried not to pass judgment. Tried.

The Turk watched as Sephiroth finally moved, probably responding to a nod from Rufus, good old silver flanking him while Genesis took to Rude's side. It was a familiar move, and Reno about-faced to fall in step with the SOLDIERs and his pal. If the four of them were working together on something, then it was important enough not to make any further remarks, though he itched to. It also meant that Rufus was, once again, one step ahead of the Turks, a position he'd come to cherish about four months ago, another way to quietly assert his authority. How had the man already known Rinoa left town this morning? If Rufus already knew all this, why were he and Rude assigned to watch the girl? Reno didn't really mind Rufus having control; he just wondered why the young man had seemed so… rushed. People who weren't necessarily close to the Vice President might not notice, because Rufus was always so controlled, but something was pushing him.

"It appears you aren't taking this assignment with the necessary amount of seriousness. The girl is no longer your concern." He spoke to them over laced fingers, his posture impeccable even as his eyes flashed for the barest moment. "At least not right now. You'll have a new assignment which will require you to drop off the radar." Reno noted how the young man barely moved as he handed Sephiroth a plain file folder, which the tall man slipped into his coat. "Sephiroth will give you your assignment once you have undergone the necessary training." Fluidly the young man's voice turned to ice colder than his stinging blue eyes. Reno's chin lifted imperceptibly, jarred by a realization; training was never a welcomed idea amongst Turks. Combat was simple for them, if not always their forte as it was for their SOLDIER counterparts. When Turks were "trained" it was something entirely joyless. "Is that clear?"

"Sir!" Reno heard Rude echo him, though it could have very well been the other way around.

"Good. Sephiroth? Genesis?" The snap of SOLDIERs standing to attention is something Reno hadn't heard from the Firsts in a long time. "Train the grunts."

* * *

Angeal walked past Wishing Gils, the place he knew Genesis would rather meet him, in favor of the meek sandwich shop just out of sight of the intersection. This place had white walls, black chairs with pseudo-leather cushions and tables with foldable legs. The man in red leather looked out of place here, not because of the coloring, for black and white goes with everything, but because the atmosphere is dingy in comparison to his un-aged face and undeniable clarity. Genesis is a shock of the rich, low calorie pristine inside the cost-effective dive. Some would find it odd that Angeal never wondered why they're still friends.

"I had thought you would bring Rinoa with you."

"She left early today, telling me at the last possible moment as usual." That is, three hours after she'd already boarded a train to Kalm. "Shame she had no idea you'd have information on how to get into Esthar."

"A pity indeed." Genesis titled his head in such a way that wasn't meant to move his hair from his eyes, yet the strands cleared from his vision as he appraised his friend. "Such a free spirited girl, and so pure." Angeal laughed inwardly at what Rinoa would think of him saying so, her own naivety keeping her safe from the darker implications of the man's words. "I had wanted to see her before I left, my god-daughter, but it cannot be helped." He sipped from his cheap coffee. "There are many things that cannot be helped."

Angeal refused the urge to become serious—more serious than usual—and lead their conversation in a different direction.

"Between the two of you, I'd get sick of listening to talk about the designers and the writers at the forefront of politically driven literature." Rinoa never really took into account that Genesis might not agree with her views, but something about the way Genesis listened to Rinoa talk about liberally geared fiction was… a topic for another time. "Are you going to be running into Laguna?"

"Thankfully, no." Genesis had a marked distaste for their old comrade from the Infantry days and his unforeseen rise to power; Angeal knew various reasons why, but really Genesis had never taken well to the unrefined antics of Laguna Loire. Just as well that the vivacious man had fallen into his own team of sorts. "It's a classified visit." And that meant no more talk on the subject.

The rest of their conversation was, for all intents and purposes, normal. Halfway through the two of them became mutually interested in the news report and the end of it was the cue to end this friendly visit. Outside the two of them took to opposite sides of the front door, Angeal prepared to go home for the evening, and Genesis on a long, scenic train ride far, far away.

"You'll have to tell me how he runs his country after you report," was Angeal's frugal good-bye when he was steps from the door.

"You will hear far better, as it is planned, dear friend. Change is a twinkling in the eye of the powerful."

"You'll have to tell me what that means as well." Angeal had a sneaking suspicion he already knew.

* * *

"How the heck am I even supposed to know if the gardener is there?" Zack found himself talking to a Rinoa who wasn't even present, a sure sign that this whole idea was probably bad for his sanity. It was one thing to listen to a girl who kicked you in the shin, but another to follow her imperial commands when she wasn't even there to kick you again. Rinoa wasn't his girlfriend, not even his sister, though he supposed his feelings toward her were no less than what he'd feel if his parents ever decided to have a kid again. "I mean, how can you expect me to keep coming down here if there's no guarantee they will be here? It's not exactly on the way home from the office…" He hopped up on top of a mangled support beam, his body arching into a hand-spring of sorts resulting in a landing atop the upturned end of the beam some four feet in the air. "Woo!" He jumped down. "I mean, I should be training right now, keeping the energy flowing on the SOLDIER floor, making sure my buddies don't fall to far behind this." A power-stance, a flourish directed towards himself and a bow; maybe it was best his parents never conceived again. "Not to mention I have a train to catch in an hour for my last mission before the official promotion. Don't want to start on a sour note."

Normally Zack took stairs two, sometimes three, at a time, but once he was in front of the church he exhaled between his blabbering lips and walked up slowly. "It's only desecration if the church is still in use and not already mangled, right? The flowers aren't even really supposed to be there…" His excuse for why an angry God shouldn't smite him where he trudged. He heaved the door open, appraising the charred ceiling—which he inwardly, moodily, insisted wasn't his fault—with the slightest wince, then leveled his gaze to the alter, clapping his hands in that bored fashion some people take up to appear at least a little into whatever they were doing. "Alright. Anyone home?"

Perhaps he should have been prepared for a sight other than an old, squat gardener with arthritic joints, too big hips, and maybe a serious visage of wrinkles. Having expected thus, he suddenly found the need to use the shambled confession box in the corner, for surely the idea was a complete and utter sin against his very nature. How could he not have figured such a beautiful plot would belong to someone so gorgeous he wanted to drop to a knee, even as her viridian gaze glared molten holes through the rubber of his boots? _'My retribution is nigh.'_

Okay, maybe it wasn't that dramatic of a look, and Zack may have wanted a girlfriend, but he certainly wasn't ready to get married. He just never thought there'd be an upside to this ordeal, meeting a pretty girl, one he was ordered to help, who wouldn't know his past flirtations nor his reputation, though he admittedly wasn't as bad as some guys. The gears were already turning in his mind—_'Oh, how to woo this angel?'_—given time to speed up since the pink-clad woman refused to meet his gaze. He had stopped halfway through the pews, but picked up his gait again, scratching the back of his head. "Are these your flowers?" Score! Having the first words forced her better nature to look at him in the eye. She may have still appeared less than pleased, but now she wouldn't be able to stop looking at his pretty face.

And she didn't, though he may have overlooked the slight shift in her expression which signaled a certain familiarity.

"Are those your boot tracks?" She motioned behind her, indicating smears of brown earth, mangled stems and other imperfections. In truth, it almost looked like the scarred path leading through the slums to the church, but Zack wouldn't comment on such a thing.

"Afraid so, ma'am." Best not to lie, and the military formality couldn't hurt his chances. "I came to apologize."

"Oh, well, that's good then." Her tone was sweet, her voice a tinkling, but Zack wasn't so oblivious he'd miss the edge to her tone; if anything, past experience made him hyper-sensitive to such cues. "So, apologize."

"I'm sorry, ma'am." She pouted at him, a thrill he hadn't expected, and while she looked darn cute, he felt a shocked wave course through him because he didn't know exactly what she wanted. "Ah, very, very sorry… ma'am?" Her petite little hands balled, her arms iron straight with indignation. Was he already royally screwed?

"Apologize to the flowers."

Zack slumped, his fingers and arms lank and dangling from shoulders which barely managed to hold up his head. "What?"

Her light arms crossed. "You heard me. Apologize to them."

"But…" She got a look to her face which he'd seen in only a few women, his mom, Rinoa, and a few others. It was a look which expressed full confidence in their superiority, less to lord over him like a woman who wished to dominate a love affair, and more to say they would have their way without any promise for his personal gain. His will was prostrate before hers, so to speak. Since she'd turned his courtship into nothing, he actually found it was a little easier to obey her command; he wouldn't be making a fool of himself in front of a potential date, and he remembered he had to catch a train pretty soon anyway. "Alright."

Zack walked over the patch in the church floor, squatting with ease. Like the night when he'd ruined the flowers he realized what he had done and was truly repentant; he actually felt it a little more keenly given his legs weren't being assaulted by a tiny foot in combat boots and pieces of wood that should never have been projectile weaponry. The flowers that weren't bent and broken did wonders for lighting the dreary. No one should ruin such things.

"Hey, guys." His forearms rested on his knees, and Zack spoke with a lopsided grin. "I've never talked to flowers before, but then I guess there's a first time for everything. Listen." He scratched the back of his neck, then over his black hair. He could feel that the woman step forward to stand next to him. "I'm sorry I walked… er, ran over all of you. I hope you can fogive me." He looked to the side, but the woman's green eyes weren't letting up quite yet. "And if there's anything I can—"

"You're talking to the flowers, not me." She motioned his gaze back to them, but there was a marked difference in her tone, and the corners of her lips were raising; she seemed a little more forgiving than his mother and Rinoa.

"Ah, and if there's anything I can do to help you all recover." His arms lifted and opened to indicate the entire patch. "Then I'll be glad to assist your angelic gardener. No costs spared! And if any of your bodily uninjured buddies need emotional counseling—"

"Are you a psychiatrist?"

"You say something about that and not my calling you 'angelic?'" Zack stood up so he had the height advantage again, but he was grinning and anything but imposing. He found it easy for his mood to gear back towards courtship, but then he'd always been a bit of a flirt.

She was smiling, but it was obvious she was trying to stifle it. "They don't like being mocked."

"I would never." His gloved hand moved up over his heart as if wounded. "Sometimes the best counseling comes from a friend."

"You think they want you as a friend?"

Zack merely gazed at her a moment until she looked like she wanted to look away, then lifted a foot for the two of them to look at instead. "I don't think they'd want my boots to be their enemy. I mean, I really wasn't even trying to hurt them. Collateral damage."

"And that makes it okay?"

"I didn't say that."

"So what happened?"

He related a watered down version of events, left a certain bit of emasculation out of it, and actually looked over to speak to the flowers a few times. That he seemed to take talking to them so serious gave the woman a cause to smile, even giggle at the telling of the story. Zack felt a familiar bubble under his diaphragm, like the first time he tried to really ask a girl out, though this time it wasn't his aim. The woman was standing straight, not leaning against the pillar behind her, underneath his towering height, but was listening to him talk, green eyes a-sparkle with interest that wasn't necessarily reserved for his handsome looks (He liked to think his handsome looks had something to do with it, though.). And he, though he spoke with a certain quality to build himself up, wasn't looking at her like something to win. There was at once an innocence and maturity to their discourse; no one was playing games here and while the conversation wasn't really heavy, the two of them were taking each other at their word that they were exactly what they seemed.

"So, you're going to Timber tonight?"

About an hour had passed since the two of them started talking, Zack silently recalling the departure lists at the Train Station.

"Yep. I probably should have left a while ago, actually."

"Are you late?" She didn't act surprised, repentant or overtly pleased; she was merely okay with it.

"No, not really. I had wanted to get an early start so checking in somewhere wouldn't be a nightmare, but I had another more enjoyable engagement." He grinned unabashedly, and she smiled under his gaze, looking away towards the flowers again. She might have been blushing, but Zack didn't really care to notice. She didn't need to blush to be cute at this point, and really her green eyes were enthralling anyway; he didn't need to see a real indication that his flirtatious charms were working on her because her charm, whether she were trying or not, was working on him.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I'm supposed to finish quick, so I should be back in four days."

"Is that quick?"

"Quicker than anyone else could do it."

"Hnm. Will you come back?" The girl tucked stray strands of earthy hair behind her ear, then motioned around them. "Here, I mean."

"Yeah! I have to help get these flowers back into shape, don't I?" Zack clutched his fists loosely, lifting them in a palm-up fashion to make a watered down motion normally accompanied with an "oh yeah!" She giggled at him, obviously pleased though she wouldn't say so. Zack smiled, showing his teeth momentarily before his hands dropped. "So, what's your name?"

"Aerith." He tilted his head the slightest bit, silently asking her to continue. She seemed to like the look. "Aerith Gainsborough."

He jutted a thumb towards his chest. "Zack Fair, and I'll be at your service as soon as I get back, ma'am." Suddenly he thought of the time, and while it posed no problem for him, it was beginning to look dusky outside. "Unless you would take my services now. I could walk you—"

"I can make it by myself." She meant no slight, or at least he couldn't read it on her face. "Thank you, Zack."

"Hm." He nodded, unsure what to say, but he wasn't uncomfortable in the least. "Well, duty calls, Aerith."

Zack saluted her from the door, looking back at her with her hands clasped loosely in front of that pink dress. He liked the way pink looked on her, for it wasn't chosen and worn in a racy fashion like some of the girls donned it in the city. It did, however, part just enough below her knees to give him an image of her legs, how her ankles were covered by a pair of simple, soft looking brown boots, just one of the many details he'd race over in his brain during the idle time he had to think. Initially, there was plenty of it, for the late trains out of the city were never very full. However, once he was in Timber, it was mission time and no brain capacity could be spared; Zack wanted to be absolutely sure he deserved his position as a First Class SOLDIER.


End file.
